


a heart that offends

by glueskin



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Chronic Pain, Coming Out, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pre-Slash, Self-Hatred, emotional catharsis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24575647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glueskin/pseuds/glueskin
Summary: tatsumi asks a question that has been plaguing him since the day they met and mayoi gives in.
Relationships: Ayase Mayoi & Kazehaya Tatsumi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 67





	a heart that offends

**Author's Note:**

> um...happy birthday mayoi...haha...ha...
> 
> i wrote this in like a hardly coherent state between 4 and 6am and then immediately went to sleep HJFSHHJ shoutout to mika for going crazy over tatsumayo with me
> 
> pleaseee heed the tags btw im not fucking around

Tatsumi holds back a groan of relief as Mayoi lowers him onto his bunk in their dorms; he sighs instead, legs aching, the pain spreading up to his lower back.  
  
“Thank you, Mayoi-san. I’m sorry to have put you out during your own party…” he trails off mournfully, feeling guilty.   
  
Of course Mayoi only shakes his head; Tatsumi tracks the sway of his braid, something warming in his chest at the sight of the ribbon Tatsumi had given him that morning tied carefully at the end.   
  
“N-No, I’m sorry, Tatsumi-san! Ahh, how unpleasant it must have been to be carried so far by someone as disgusting as me...please forgive me for holding you for so long!”   
  
Mayoi finishes his dramatic—but sincere, Tatsumi has long since learned—apology with a bow of his head. He had kneeled down to lay Tatsumi on the bed and his gloved hands rest on the mattress as he lowers his head so much that it nearly joins them there. His ears are red; Tatsumi wants to reach out and touch them. He doesn’t. He simply smiles tiredly even though Mayoi can’t see it.   
  
“It’s fine, Mayoi-san. I promise. I felt quite comfortable.” Well. Mayoi is somewhat bony, but Tatsumi likes him so very much and thus had spent the entire walk back in a guilty yet euphoric daze in spite of the pain he felt.   
  
“You’re too kind,” Mayoi mutters, head still lowered, “To say such things to a man like me…”   
  
Tatsumi _hm’s_ , shifting on his bed to prop himself up against his pillows, smoothing out his pained expression in case Mayoi glances up.   
  
“May I ask you something, Mayoi-san?”   
  
He does look up, then, and his eyes are truly such a dizzying green.   
  
“Of course,” Mayoi breathes out, though he looks wary.   
  
“You don’t have to tell me if you’d rather not speak of it,” Tatsumi tells him. “But I’d like to know in case I might be able to help.”   
  
Mayoi’s eyes thin, a hint of his too-sharp teeth appearing as he worries at his lower lip. He doesn’t say anything, though, so Tatsumi keeps going.   
  
“What makes you believe you’re disgusting?” He asks. There is no kind way to say it; Mayoi cringes away as if struck, seeming to shrink in on himself. A stab of guilt digs itself into Tatsumi’s chest.   
  
“Th—That’s…” his voice goes shallow at the end of the word, breath hitching as he glances away.   
  
“You don’t need to say,” Tatsumi reminds him gently. Mayoi swallows, inaudible, but Tatsumi notices the movement of his throat. His gloved fingers flex, sinking into the edge of Tatsumi’s bed, inches from his leg.   
  
“If you knew,” Mayoi says, ragged, “You...none of you would look at me so kindly. Ah, I’m sorry, Tatsumi-san. You’ve been so kind, but I…” his voice catches, eyes watering. Tatsumi reaches out to touch his hand—slowly, so that Mayoi will see and have ample time to pull away if he desires.   
  
He doesn’t. He stares down at where Tatsumi’s hand lay over his gloved one, face growing splotchy in his effort to suppress his tears.   
  
“I’m sorry,” Tatsumi says. “I didn’t mean to pressure you. I want to help, but...like I said, you don’t need to tell me. Not now. Not ever, if you don’t want to.”   
  
“Why do you want to help someone like me?” Mayoi asks, helpless. His voice cracks.   
  
“Because I like Mayoi-san,” Tatsumi says simply. It isn’t the first time he’s said it and it won’t be the last; he wonders if Mayoi understands exactly what he means. He’s never given any indication. “Is it not natural to want to help someone you care for?”   
  
Mayoi looks at him, watery-eyed and red faced.   
  
“Too kind,” he says, repeating his earlier statement. “Tatsumi-san, if, if you knew the kind of man I am, the thoughts I have, you…” his expression twists, guilty and indecisive as he rubs his free hand against his eyes.   
  
Tatsumi squeezes his hand gently, smiling as softly and coaxingly as he can manage.   
  
“You seem awfully sure,” he says. “There are things about me that I also think most people would find unpleasant, you know. Perhaps even disgusting. Some things I’ve done…” he sighs, shaking his head as if he could shake away the guilt that eats away at him when he recalls what had happened in the lead up to his accident.   
  
“What I mean to say, Mayoi-san, is that whatever it is...no matter how awful it might be in your eyes, perhaps it would not be so in mine.”   
  
Mayoi had not judged him, after all, though Tatsumi wonders if Mayoi’s morals are quite as firm as most peoples. He finds himself often doubtful, but at least Mayoi also has very clear lines and boundaries he has drawn for himself.   
  
Mayoi’s shoulders slump. He doesn’t look at Tatsumi, only at their joined hands.   
  
“I want to tell you,” he admits, his voice a reedy whisper. “But it’s scary, Tatsumi-san.”   
  
“You don’t have to,” Tatsumi repeats. Mayoi shakes his head.   
  
“No, I...of all people, you should...oh, I can’t ask your forgiveness for this,” Mayoi moans, shaking Tatsumi’s hand off his so he can bury his face in both of his palms. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry...I’m an awful, wicked person. I was born messed up. I, I can’t be a proper man, a filial son...the thought of, with a woman, it makes me sick. But it makes me sicker to think of a man, because I want…”   
  
Mayoi’s voice fades, muffled into incoherence, but even though his admission had been barely put-together…   
  
Tatsumi understands. He understands all too well, perhaps; his parents are modern people with modern values, but even today, that isn’t something that always extends to such things.   
  
He had asked, just once, when he was in middle school, some months after he had first begun to understand that there was a disconnect between himself and his peers. He couldn’t understand the way they spoke of the girls in their classes, how they became so distracted by them in P.E, until he found himself taking a volleyball to the face while his gaze tracked the sweat trailing down Amane-senpai’s throat mid-match.   
  
Idly as it came up in conversation on television, he wondered aloud—what did his parents think, of men who only wanted other men, women who only wanted other women, or those who liked both?   
  
_It has nothing to do with us,_ his father had said. His mother had looked at him in a way that made him wonder, then, if part of her knew. _I don’t care what kind of lives those people want to live. It’s their choice._  
  
Is it a choice, Tatsumi had wondered? But he had not asked, and he never spoke of it again. Occasionally he thinks he might bring himself to, someday. Other times he doubts it.   
  
Tatsumi reaches out. He gently wraps his fingers around both of Mayoi’s wrist and tugs; not with force, but just enough for him to feel. When Mayoi lets his hands be pulled, Tatsumi tugs them down properly, holding them in both of his.   
  
Mayoi’s face is a fright, red and wet with tears, mouth twisted awkwardly as he chokes back any noise he might have wanted to make.   
  
Tatsumi still finds him lovely.   
  
“Mayoi-san,” he says gently, carefully searching for the words. “Do you think I’m gross? Do you think I’m...irreparably _wrong_ somehow?”   
  
Mayoi looks horrified, eyes going wide and mouth going slack.   
  
“N-No! Of course not! I could never!” He chokes, voice high and strangled. Tatsumi smiles, squeezing his hands gently.   
  
“But...you know, we aren’t so different. The thought of physical intimacy with a woman makes me feel sick, too,” he admits. Saying it isn’t as freeing as he may have thought it would be, once upon a time—he’s never admitted it aloud before, but it’s a fact he has long since reconciled.   
  
Mayoi’s eyes, if possible, grow wider still.   
  
“And,” Tatsumi continues, keeping his voice gentle, “I’ve only ever _wanted_ other men before. Do you understand?”   
  
“You...you,” Mayoi’s voice cracks, his tone breathless, his eyes growing wet once more. “Really?”   
  
“Really,” Tatsumi says, still smiling as he idly rubs one of his thumbs across Mayoi’s knuckles in a soothing gesture. “I wouldn’t lie about this. So do you think I’m gross, now?”   
  
Mayoi shakes his head slowly, looking stunned.   
  
“Yet you believe _you_ are,” Tatsumi says. Mayoi says nothing, lowering his gaze with shame.   
  
“It’s okay,” Tatsumi tells him, even if it kind of _isn’t_. “You genuinely believe this about yourself—such a thing isn’t easy to change. But...did someone _tell_ you this, Mayoi-san? That you’re disgusting for this?”   
  
Again, Mayoi is quiet, but his flinch and the way his fingers suddenly curl under Tatsumi’s are telling enough.   
  
Tatsumi is very careful not to let his expression shift. He keeps his smile, his soft eyes, even as something inside of him twists with a righteous anger he had thought he might have lost the day he ruined his own body.   
  
“It’s okay,” he says again. “Mayoi-san, it’s okay. You don’t have to say. But now you know we’re the same in this—so can I ask a favor of you?”   
  
“Yes, Tatsumi-san. Of, of course,” Mayoi chokes out, looking up at him once more. He’s crying again, sniffling, each inhale a shaky gasp.   
  
“From now on, when you find yourself thinking you’re disgusting when you look at men...can you try to remember it’s not just you, or even just you or I? And that if _those_ people aren’t gross, you aren’t? Even if you don’t believe it, can you try?”   
  
For a moment Mayoi is quiet, shifting his gaze and chewing on his lip.   
  
“Even if...the men I look at are people I know? Isn’t that bad? Like, disrespectful?”   
  
Ah. If it is, Tatsumi thinks, then he is surely as awful as Mayoi believes himself to be—after all, he often looks at Mayoi with a longing hunger he doubts will ever be realized.   
  
“I don’t think so,” Tatsumi says. It’s perfectly normal, he thinks—none of their peers are looked down on for having feelings, whether they be physical or emotional, for their female friends. It was expected of them, even.   
  
Mayoi sucks in a deep, shuddering breath, pulling his hands out from beneath Tatsumi’s so he can wipe at his face with the back of his gloved hands.   
  
“I’ll try, Tatsumi-san,” he says. “I, um...thank you. Nobody’s ever…” he trails off, sniffling as he rubs at his cheek. “Just, um, thank you.”   
  
“Of course. I’m happy to be here for you, Mayoi-san,” Tatsumi assures, sitting up enough so he can pat Mayoi’s shoulder and wincing as the ache in his lower back spikes. Mayoi, of course, notices.   
  
“Ahhh, I’m such a terrible, selfish person! Forgive me, Tatsumi-san, for taking advantage of your kindness while you’re in so much pain—I’ll get your painkillers right away!”   
  
Mayoi is gone before Tatsumi can say anything. He huffs a laugh, falling back against the pillows as Mayoi slams his way into the dorm bathroom.   
  
He can speak with Mayoi about the excessive apologies and self-deprecation later—one thing at a time, he thinks as he hears the tap begin to run in the bathroom, closing his eyes.   
  
“Uwahh, Tatsumi-san, are you asleep?” Mayoi whisper-shouts several minutes later. Tatsumi had in fact begun to doze despite how awake he had felt while speaking to Mayoi and how uncomfortable his body currently was. He hadn’t heard the water stop running, or heard Mayoi pouring some juice from the fridge for him to drink with his medicine.   
  
“No, no. I’m awake,” Tatsumi huffs, sitting up again. Mayoi carefully hands him two uncomfortably large white pills and the glass. With a grimace, he knocks both back, hating how difficult his pain medication is to swallow. _Why_ are they so big? And _why_ must his body have such a tolerance that he needs _two pills_?   
  
“Thank you, Mayoi-san. The drowsiness will hit soon, so...you should head back to the others, if you’re up for it. I’m sure they’d understand if you aren’t—I know it’s hard, spending so much time around so many people…” Tatsumi lets his sentence trail away, body already feeling heavy as he eases himself back down.   
  
Mayoi tugs the covers from under his body so he can pull them up to his waist. He’s smiling, not too-wide with fear or anxiety as he often does, but so gently and sincerely that it softens his whole face.   
  
Something flutters in Tatsumi’s ribs.   
  
“I think I will go back,” Mayoi says. “Just for a bit, to tell them thank you. Nobody...nobody has celebrated my birthday in…” his smile lessens, his gaze far off, and Tatsumi sleepily grabs at his arm.   
  
“I already said it,” he mumbles, eyelids growing heavy, “But happy birthday, Mayoi-san. I’m glad you were born. I’m glad I met you.”   
  
He feels Mayoi’s hand over his, warm and slightly calloused. Only as he’s closing his eyes and wishing his medication didn’t make him so _tired_ does he realize Mayoi had taken off his gloves—had touched him, bare-handed, without encouragement.   
  
By that point he can’t say anything, though. He’s asleep almost as soon as he realizes—but that’s okay.   
  
Even when Tatsumi wakes up, he won’t have forgotten. 

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact i love coffee and my username is glueskin


End file.
